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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163366">Hidden in Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_teunisje/pseuds/h_teunisje'>h_teunisje</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Musician Yamaguchi, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Tsukishima Kei, POV Yamaguchi Tadashi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_teunisje/pseuds/h_teunisje</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The two had spent countless nights like this, over the years they’d known each other. As small kids, they told ghost stories and chased each other around in dark bedrooms, hiding and giggling under blankets when lightning struck, pretending they were trying to dodge it. As they grew a bit older, it shifted into sneaking under their beds to play video games on their DSi’s and grabbing flashlights to read scary manga underneath windows. They sat and watched flashes of lightning dance, then pretended to sleep when parents creaked open the door to make sure they were still tucked into bed. Somewhere between getting dropped off for their first day of kindergarten and walking home together from high school, the young boys fell into who they were in that very moment, so much older but still just as close, maybe even hoping they could get closer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nostalgia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April rain ricocheted off of Kei’s umbrella, the spattering droplets replacing the usual sound of soft music that served as his soundtrack on the way home from school. The cool wind was annoying, but not unbearable, and the grey cast from the clouds that spanned the streets felt more comforting than ominous to Kei. He had always enjoyed rainy days, since they perpetually reminded him of pleasant memories. Stormy days brought on a flashback highlight reel of hot tea, horror manga, and childhood laughter under soft blankets in the dark. For the most part, these memories were made with the boy who was walking beside him underneath his umbrella. Yamaguchi forgot his own umbrella at home even though there had been a high chance of rain. It was laughably typical. </p><p>“I’m freezing,” Yamaguchi said with a shiver, rubbing his hands up and down his arms at a  rapid pace. He was wearing a long sleeve turtleneck underneath a knitted sweater, with a thick jacket on top. It still didn’t stop him from complaining about his never ending need for warmth. He was like a chameleon. </p><p>Kei huffed, feeling the numbness of his own fingers and not seeing a need to complain about it. “I know.” </p><p>Yamaguchi gave Kei a sharp look, then playfully elbowed his side. “It won’t kill you to be sympathetic every once in a while.” </p><p>“I’m letting you use my umbrella, aren’t I?” Kei pointed out. </p><p>“Hardly. You’re all the way covered and half of me is completely soaked.” </p><p>Kei looked over at his friend with startled panic, unaware that this was the case in the slightest. It was true that some of Yamagauchi’s hair was dripping, a few of the long, dark, loose strands plastered to his forehead, and one of his pant legs looked soaked. Kei, as nonchalantly as possible, stepped closer to his friend and held the umbrella closer to the other boy’s side. He inwardly cursed himself for not noticing his mistake sooner, but tried not to look too concerned. He didn’t want Yamaguchi to think he was sentimental, or anything like that. It would ruin the whole perception that Yamaguchi has of him. If he knew the things that Kei had been feeling lately, all the complex bundled up emotions bubbling and stirring within him, Yamaguchi would run for the hills. </p><p>“No!” Yamaguchi said quickly, “It’s fine, Tsukki, I didn’t mean to complain. It’s my fault for not remembering my umbrella.” </p><p>Kei looked at the ground to hide how he flushed at the use of his nickname. “Well, there was an 80% chance of rain predicted for today.” </p><p>“Yah. Sorry.” </p><p>“Why are you saying sorry to me? It’s fine. Just remember next time.” Kei took the opportunity to take half a step closer to his friend. He had a valid reason, it was perfectly logical. He was just protecting him from the rain. That was the only reason he increased their proximity. There was no personal gain whatsoever. </p><p>Kei noticed, though he desperately wished he didn’t, that Yamaguchi smelled faintly of strawberries. They were one of Kei’s favourite foods. He and Yamaguchi would sit at his kitchen table and eat them by the handful when they were kids. The smell was a mix of new and similar. It smelt faint and nostalgic like a memory yet grounded him into the present moment, strawberries and rain and chilled shivers sending Kei’s mind into haze. He almost wanted to move an inch closer, just a little shift into his space, to make sure he could drill the fruit scented rain into his memory. </p><p>Kei couldn’t do that, though. It was creepy and weird, and no normal friends walked so close together that they were practically glued at the hips. Besides, there was no way Kei could handle being any closer to Yamaguchi than he already was. Heat rushed up Kei’s arm every time their shoulders bumped or their arms brushed. One small touch made his heart skip, his breath hitch. It wasn’t even out of excitement, or that “magical connection” he’d seen described in so many romance movies and shoujo manga. It was simply that he was terrified about how much could be revealed about himself by a small touch. All it took was one too many before everything he tried too hard to contain would boil over and spill out. Every little touch made his feelings harder and harder to ignore or push away. Kei wasn’t ready to confront his feelings yet, or even acknowledge they existed. He didn’t think he would ever be ready. It was too unlike him, too unexplored, unknown, unfamiliar, and uncertain. He wasn’t even sure if they were real, yet, and what it would mean for him if they were. It was overwhelmingly confusing, especially for someone who never usually got confused. He wasn’t sure what emotion he felt stronger, sadness, or frustration. It was madness. </p><p>Suddenly, there was a gentle tug on his sleeve, and Kei stopped in his tracks. He looked around for a few moments in confusion. He had spaced out. </p><p>“You almost walked right past your own driveway,” Yamaguchi pointed out, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. </p><p>Kei rolled his eyes, concealing his embarrassment. “Keen observation skills.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Yamaguchi said without much conviction, looking mournfully into the rain. He was clearly thinking about his very wet, very umbrella-less walk home. He was overtly too polite to directly ask Kei to help him solve this problem. It was impressive considering Yamaguchi’s state. His hair and clothes were already dripping wet, his teeth slightly chattering. If he spent even more time in the rain he would probably catch a cold. </p><p>Kei sighed. “Would you like to come in?” </p><p>“Are you sure? Would your mom be okay with that?” </p><p>“Please. She loves you more than she loves me.” </p><p>“Well,” Yamaguchi said with a small grin, “I don’t blame her.”</p><p>“Me either.” Kei started walking down his driveway, making sure to keep Yamaguchi mostly under the umbrella. His mom would be mad if they got her floors wet. </p><p>Kei closed his umbrella as they scrambled into the porch, Yamaguchi pausing to push his hair back and try to wring it out. Kei watched patiently, swallowing hard. He had to stop being so invasive with his gaze. It wasn’t appropriate. Still, it was hard not to just stop and appreciate his friend’s quiet attractiveness, his sometimes clumsy but always sure movements, and his carefully kind eyes. When his hair was back out of his face, Kei was able to make out the curve of his jawline and the slight widows peak at the top of his head. No person in their right mind wouldn’t take the opportunity to stop and just look. It was impossible for Kei not to feel guilty for it, though. If Yamaguchi knew why Kei stared, it would make him so uncomfortable. It wasn’t fair for Kei to take him all in while he didn’t even know what was going on. </p><p>Keys ratted inside of the lock as Kei struggled with his door, then shoved it open with more force than he intended to. He jumped, expecting his mom to yell at him, but nothing came. “Hello?” He yelled into his house. There was no answer. It looked like Kei and Yamaguchi had the house to themselves. Kei placed his umbrella in the stand and shrugged off his coat, holding his hand out for Yamaguchi’s so he could hang them both up. Yamaguchi went ahead into the house and made his way to the bathroom while Kei loosened the laces of his boots. Yamaguchi was comfortable moving about Kei’s house freely since he was there so often. It was just one of those things that came along with years of friendship and time spent in each other's spaces. </p><p>Cupboard doors squeaked open and closed while Kei set his boots on the shoe rack. It sounded like Yamaguchi was getting a towel. Kei took off towards his room to get some dry clothes. He opened his bottom drawer and took out a pair of his sweatpants and one of his sweaters that Yamaguchi borrowed so often it may as well have been his. Footsteps approached, Yamaguchi walking into the room blindly with a towel over his head, his hands scrubbing the fabric down into his soaked hair. His elbow bumped against the doorframe as he entered, and he let out a startled yelp. </p><p>“Can you at least look where you’re going when you’re walking?” Kei said. He threw the clothes at Yamaguchi, who still wasn’t looking. They hit his stomach and fell to the floor. “You’re clumsy enough as it is.” </p><p>Yamaguchi pulled the towel off of his head, his dark hair sticking up in fluffed tufts. </p><p>Kei failed to suppress his laughter.</p><p>“Shut up,” Yamaguchi quipped, blushing deeply. He bent down to scoop up the clothes, then started frantically patting down his hair with his free hand. </p><p>“Let me help,” Kei said. The words escaped him and his body was moving before he had time to think about it, to fully process what he was doing. It happened so fast he didn’t have time to stop himself. He walked to Yamaguchi and placed both of his hands in the shorter boy’s hair, working his fingers through the knots and flattening them out. He truly did smell like strawberries. The scent drifted everywhere as Kei worked slowly at his scalp. Kei was enjoying the moment more than he was supposed to. He liked being able to play with Yamaguchi’s hair just because he wanted to, and to feel how Yamaguchi slightly pressed up onto his tiptoes to lean into the touch, so subtle Kei thought it could have just been his imagination. Yamaguchi’s head was awfully close to his chest, and Kei hoped he couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating as he twirled his fingers through damp silky waves. He realized with a start that Yamaguchi’s hair was fine, and he was prolonging this a lot longer than he needed to. He shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Yamaguchi was probably extremely confused.</p><p> Kei cleared his throat and stepped back, eyeing his work sceptically. “I did a good job. But you still look like a moron.” </p><p>“Doesn’t sound right. I think your glasses are foggy,” Yamaguchi said with an attempt at a playful tone, which was ruined by his wobbly voice. </p><p>Tension was strung tight, and Kei got the memo that he had crossed a line. That was too weird. Too obvious. He quickly tried to change tones, pushing down the guilt until he could dwell on it later while he was alone. </p><p>“I’m going to go get some water while you change,” Kei said. He hurried out of his room and closed the door behind him, letting out a deep breath. He relaxed the tension in his shoulders and rolled his neck, telling himself to calm down and get a grip. After quickly grabbing some water from the kitchen and shaking out some nervous jitters that he wasn’t supposed to feel around someone he’s known for basically his whole life, he re-entered his bedroom. Yamaguchi was standing at the window, back to Kei, watching the rain. </p><p>It was nice to see Yamaguchi drowning in his sweater, the soft blue a pretty combination with his dark hair. It felt familiar. It helped Kei settle in and unwind. He walked forwards and grabbed his laptop from his desk, then tossed it onto the bed. Yamaguchi’s head turned, watching his movements and getting the idea. There was no verbal communication needed. They both climbed onto the carefully made bed and settled down over the covers, sitting with their backs against the wall and their feet hanging over the side. Raindrops pattered against the bedroom window, the soft taps drowned out by Kei’s aggressive typing. Neither of the boys had turned the light on, and the room was only lit by the tiny bit of sun soaking through the rain clouds. It was dim, shadowy, and the rain only looked like it was going to get worse. It was the perfect horror movie atmosphere. </p><p>“Tsukki…” Yamaguchi groaned after seeing him click onto the horror movie section on Netflix. </p><p>“What?” Kei said, smiling mischievously. He liked scary movies, mostly because he found it amusing how others genuinely found them scary, and liked to prove his superiority by not flinching at jump scares and finding the movie more comical than horrifying. Besides, he figured a good violet film with lots of jumpscares will help get rid of some of the tense energy built up from the exchange they had earlier. There was no room for awkward unwanted accidental intimacy amiss all the blood and gore. </p><p>Yamaguchi huffed. “Not this again.” </p><p>“Not what?” </p><p>“You always want to watch scary movies when it’s dark or stormy. That’s when they’re the scariest.” </p><p>“That’s kind of the whole point of a horror movie. To get scared.” Kei said dryly. </p><p>“Yeah, except I’m the only one getting scared. You just sit there and make fun of me.” </p><p>Kei paused his browsing and looked over at his friend, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like me.” </p><p>“Really?” Yamaguchi said, startling to smile a little himself, comfortably falling back into familiar banter, “so you’re telling me that even after I slightly flinch you don't give me that stupid look.” </p><p>“What stupid look.” </p><p>“You know, the one that’s like ‘seriously?’ All condensing and stuff. Like this,” he straightens out his posture and pushes himself up a bit so he’s looking down at Kei, then furrows his eyebrows a little, lifting one slightly, his lips pressed into an unimpressed hard line that has a hint of slight sympathetic amusement. It was an excellent imitation. </p><p>“Oh, right. That look,” Kei said, watching as Yamaguchi fell back into the bed with a small laugh, “you must stare at my face a lot to be able to do that so accurately.” He was teasing, of course, but he felt Yamaguchi stiffen slightly beside him. That was strange, since Kei had made comments like that multiple times before, which were either debated against with wit or laughed off. It had never made Yamaguchi startle into tense silence before. Did it have something to do with earlier? Did Kei cross another threshold? He tried to piece together all the moments from the last time he said that line to the present moment, trying to figure out which it was that made the words mean something else. Something more. </p><p>“Maybe,” Yamaguchi admitted shyly.  </p><p>It was Kei’s turn to stiffen in surprise. He couldn’t physically comprehend what Yamaguchi meant by that. His brain refused to process the information presented to him. His goosebumps were from the cold and his racing heart was from the anticipation of the scary movie. Nothing more was at play. Yamaguchi said nothing that meant anything. They were both joking around. Kei was getting his hopes up for nothing, hearing things that weren’t really said. He clicked on a movie without even reading the title, desperately needing a distraction and a reason to not respond. He flipped a switch, shutting off his ability to critically think and tried to shove what was just said out of his head so he would never think back on it or remember it even happened. It wouldn’t work, of course. Kei would never be able to forget something like that. It didn’t mean he couldn't desperately try.  </p><p>The movie started immediately with a shrill female scream, making Yamaguchi jump in the first few seconds. Kei felt his friend look at him expectantly, but he kept his eyes firmly on the screen. He couldn’t look at Yamaguchi after what he had just said. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying anything. He wouldn't dare. </p><p>A half hour of build-up went by that was pretty uneventful, but just as Kei started to feel comfortable again, another jump scare popped on screen. He didn’t jump, of course. It was obvious that it was coming by the way the music intensified and the scene stilled for a few moments. However, Yamaguchi, on the other hand, let out a small yelp and reached over to clutch Kei’s forearm. </p><p>The movie, though Kei wasn’t exactly paying that much attention to it before, completely faded into the background. Every last ounce of Keis conscious attention tunnel focused on the small stretch of skin that Yamaguchi held on to in order to feel a sense of safety. The way his fingers curled into his muscle made shivers shoot up his spine, fast and sharp, so intense it was almost uncomfortable. He hated to be caught off guard, and the fear that came along with being suddenly used as a human stress ball still lingered deep in his gut. It was nearly impossible to follow what was happening on screen when fingertips on his skin made him so helplessly confused he couldn't even follow what was going on in his own brain. The hand left his arm as fast as it came, the few seconds it was there feeling like a torturously endless lifetime that wasn't nearly long enough. He wasn't sure if he wanted Yamaguchi to never do that again or never let go. </p><p>Kei bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated at his own reactions and thoughts. It was all so out of control. He didn't understand how to proceed in a way that would stop his skin from prickling and his heart from going into overload. There had to be a way to manage it, somehow. There had to be a way to make it stop. He yearned for everything to just stop, to give him a little room to breathe. As much as he didn't want to think about what was going on, he needed to. His feelings were turning into a real issue that only got worse the longer they went untreated. In order to fix a problem, he first had to define what exactly that problem was. Whatever was causing his fight or flight response to grab him by the shoulders and shake him every time Yamaguchi touched him in the slightest way or looked up at him with gentle eyes needed to be eradicated. It was going to start affecting their friendship pretty soon, and Yamaguchi was the only friend Kei really cared about keeping around. Yamaguchi wasn’t stupid. He would notice something was going on eventually. Kei had to figure out exactly what that something was and snuff it out before it was too late. Until then, he was trapped in swirling disorientation and agitating puzzlement, wondering what little mistake would be his last. </p><p>Thunder rolled in the sky above, and the bellowing crashes were so loud it was like the storm was happening directly inside of Kei’s head. The steady rainfall slamming against the window started fighting harder, hitting the glass with a violent velocity as the clouds grew heavier and the small amount of light that drifted into the room faded into darkness. Yamaguchi hit pause on the movie and closed the laptop, setting it onto the ground. He leaned back beside Kei, and the two sat extremely still, almost like they were daring each other to see who would give in and disrupt the peace first. They watched the rain lash out and listened to the storm cry, trying to hear what it had to say. </p><p>The two had spent countless nights like this, over the years they’d known each other. As small kids, they told ghost stories and chased each other around in dark bedrooms, hiding and giggling under blankets when lightning struck, pretending they were trying to dodge it. As they grew a bit older, it shifted into sneaking under their beds to play video games on their DSi’s and grabbing flashlights to read scary manga underneath windows. They sat and watched flashes of lightning dance, then pretended to sleep when parents creaked open the door to make sure they were still tucked into bed. Somewhere between getting dropped off for their first day of kindergarten and walking home together from high school, the young boys fell into who they were in that very moment, so much older but still just as close, maybe even hoping they could get closer. </p><p>“We haven’t had a storm like this in a while,” Yamaguchi said, giving into the weight of the silence first. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, bringing down his head to rest. </p><p>Kei nodded slowly, hoping his Yamaguchi could make it out through the little bit of light left in the room. </p><p>“I’ve always liked storms,” said Yamaguchi, speaking low and soft. </p><p>Kei took a deep breath. “Me too.” </p><p>Heaviness hung in every second of quiet that passed, and there was an uneasiness in the way even the smallest movement made the other flinch or startle. They both wanted to say something. They both wanted to do something. Kei could tell by the way one of their energies would spike and then the other’s would spike and they would both be strung taut, until both of them realized neither of them was going to speak first and they sunk in disappointment, both of them crippled in their own fears and admitting defeat. Kei didn’t even know what it was he needed to say. It had to be something to console Yamaguchi that everything was fine and not to worry, but the way Yamaguchi seemed to open his mouth to say something and quickly close it again made Kei think he wasn’t looking to be consoled. Something was off. He couldn’t put a finger on it and was too scared to try. </p><p>“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, careful and hesitant. </p><p>Kei felt his chest clutch, heat rushing to his face and sweat pooling in his hands. It was disgusting how his body reacted to the tensity. “Yeah?” </p><p>Yamaguchi paused, taking his time to think his words through carefully, then took his head off of his knees and turned to face the boy beside him. “I…” </p><p>The default ringtone of Kei’s phone blasted loud, rough vibrations rubbing against his leg. He pinched his nose, muttered something about bad timing while Yamaguchi giggled nervously, and Kei answered his phone. “Yes?” </p><p>The voice coming through the speaker was his mother’s. “Hi, Kei. Sorry I didn’t text to say I would be late, it’s been a busy day.” </p><p>Kei gave a small, “hm,” in response. </p><p>“I’m going to wait until the storm is over before I drive home, you know I hate driving in the rain. You can grab yourself super, right?” </p><p>Looking at Yamaguchi apologetically, unable to stop wondering what it was he was about to say, Kei huffed out a quick and  annoyed, “yes, mother.” </p><p>“Okay, okay, jeez. I’ll see you when I get home then.” She hung up her phone and that was that. Short and sweet, like all their exchanges were. </p><p>“Sorry,” Kei said, “I don't why old people can’t just text. Probably something to do with their declining cognitive functionality as their brain rots from aging. Anyways, what were you saying?” He kept his voice steady as he rambled, trying furiously to hide his anticipation. He tried to remember if functionality was even a word. </p><p>“Oh,” Yamaguchi said, resting his head back on his knees, “it was nothing. I was just going to say that… I don’t know. Nevermind.” </p><p>Kei couldn’t think of a single thing to say back. He just continued starting, trying to make out his friends face through the dark. He didn’t understand what was happening but the twisting in his stomach told him that it was his fault. </p><p>“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi breathed. </p><p>A muscle in Kei’s jaw jumped, his stomach twisting harder. “Hmm?” </p><p>“I don’t want the rain to stop.” </p><p>Kei swallowed, his poor, tired brain struggling to understand the meaning behind his words. “Yeah. Me either.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To a Wild Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hands flew absently over piano keys as Tadashi tilted his head back and tried to remember how it felt to have long, willowy fingers tugging at his hair. He knew this song so well the notes came out effortlessly, the fun, dancing hum of the music swirling through the memory he couldn’t help but try to relive. The image of his face buried into Tsukishima’s chest and the classic melody of Jacques Legrand’s rendition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heart and Soul </span>
  </em>
  <span>escalated his heartbeat, making his mouth spread into a quiet, private smile. The mood that night was heavy, the air thick with words left unspoken, and Tsukishima felt just as far away as ever, but for those brief few moments of contact Tadashi felt happiness so strong he thought his heart would explode. He would never bring an umbrella to school again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had learnt and mastered the song that was coming from the piano long ago, but playing it so well and with such enthusiasm made him feel on top of the world. The keys listened to his every command, jumping and bending to his will, his feelings of fondness and excitement ringing through every sound. It was nice to be able to hear every thought and feeling that had been simmering inside of him out in the open, exposed to the world. When it all poured out of it, it felt even more real, the song he played many times before taking on new meaning and bringing up old ones all at the same time. Playing old pieces gave him the same sort of nostalgia that came along with watching childhood cartoons and chocolate chip cookies, and reminded him of what it was like to run around the elementary school playground holding Tsukishima’s hand. He also knew that from now on, every time he played the song in the future it would also remind him of what it felt like to be close to Tsukishima in the dark of a storm. The last few happy sets of notes finished off the piece, and Tadashi sat back, satisfied and proud. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why can’t I just tell him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tadashi thought to himself. He knew he’d basically been in love with his best friend probably since middle school, and he hadn’t had the balls to do anything about it. He knew that if he confessed his feelings and Tsukishima didn’t feel the same way, their friendship would be awkward for a while but it wouldn’t permanently falter. Their foundation was too strong for everything to be wiped away by a little earthquake. They cared about each other too much. Tsukishima liked to pretend like he didn’t care, but it was extremely obvious how much he did. Tadashi knew that Tsukishima would be lost without him. So, no, Tadashi confessing his feelings and then getting rejected wouldn’t change anything dramatically and finally getting it off of his chest would be a huge relief. Still, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Why couldn’t he do it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorknob to the school music room rattled and the door swung open, followed by Tsukishima poking his head inside, glasses hanging so low on his nose they looked like they were about to fall off of his face. “I’m coming in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not supposed to be here,” Tadashi said, knowing he would stay anyways. They have had this conversation many times before. The music teacher, who loved Tadashi and gave him permission to use the music room during his lunch break, gave Tadashi exactly two rules to follow. He wasn’t supposed to eat around the instruments, and he wasn’t supposed to let anyone else in. Those were the only two rules, and Tsukishima consistently insisted on breaking both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima closed the door behind him with his foot, struggling to hold in balance as he did so. He was holding a cup of raman in each hand, the tips of plastic forks sticking out of the both of them. Tadashi vaguely wondered how he had managed to get the door open. It could not have been an easy or simple feat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really care what I’m supposed to be doing,” Tsukishima said, walking to Tadashi to hand him his food, “I’m bored and you left your lunch in my bag.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to get in trouble one of these days,” Tadashi said, giving in and taking the food. Honestly, he didn’t really care if they got in trouble. It would be worth it for the quiet moments they shared huddled by the piano. It was just a regular lunch hour on a school day, but times like these were secretly Tadashi’s favourite. He was surrounded by the three things he loved most in the world, food, music, and his best friend. He moved aside, giving Tsukishima room to squeeze in next to him on the piano bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima sat down gratefully. He didn’t look too concerned about the prospect of upsetting the music teacher, either. To be fair, he never really looked too concerned about anything. He swirled some ramen onto his fork and ate, the threat of getting caught passing right over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making fast work of his food, Tadashi shoved the garbage into his bag, feeling disgusted with himself for getting ramen juices on his school work but not wanting the music teacher to find the evidence of his misbehaviour in her trash can. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through twitter in comfortable silence as Tsukishima ate, taking his time. Tsukishima had the appetite of a toddler, which was surprising given his height. He had always been that way, though, taller and lankier than all the other kinds, picking at his food just enough to not be hungry then shoving the rest Tadashi’s way. Tadashi used to accept the food gratefully before he understood the concept of health. After acquiring that information and realizing that Tsukishima was probably not getting the nutrients that he needed to, Tadashi always made sure that his friend ate his entire serving, no matter how long it took him to finish it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, staring down at his hands, stirring around his food but not continuing to eat it, “Did you finish the bio homework?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi groaned, openly displaying his unwillingness to discuss that topic at the moment. He hoped Tsukishima would drop it, but unfortunately, school was one of the only topics that Tsukishima enjoyed having lengthy conversations about. Tadashi shoved his phone in his pocket. “Homework, homework, homework,” he mocked, “unlike you, I have a life outside of homework.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima looked down at him blankly, golden eyes harsh and all-knowing. “I’ll take that as a no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Tadashi said, heat rising to his face. Sometimes, direct eye contact mixed the proximity was just a little too much. Tadashi felt his heart stutter, and then the rambling kicked in. “I hate bio, so no, I didn’t do the homework, but I’ve also been busy. I’ve been trying to learn a new song but It’s really hard and I keep getting distracted and playing easy songs instead. I don’t know why I can’t manage this one. I’ve been working on it for a while and it’s getting me, like, super frustrated. I texted a few friends from music class and they’ve never even heard of the song.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just move on to a different one?” Tsukishima asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Tadashi said firmly, “I have to learn </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, just because.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukishima looked back down at Tadashi with a raised eyebrow. It was his signature </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously </span>
  </em>
  <span>look that Tadashi was way too accustomed to being on the other end of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi groaned, unable to escape. “Fine. It’s because giving up hurts my pride.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ridiculous,” Tsukishima stated. His eyes softened a little, voice warming ever so slightly. “You know you’re a good player. Some songs just don’t mesh with some people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” Tadashi’s eyes widened, his mind playing the small compliant over and over, repeating like a broken record. Tsukishima was brutally honest and never gave out compliments he didn’t mean. When Tsukishima said something good about you, it wasn’t because he wanted you to feel good about yourself. He was simply stating what he believed to be a fact. Receiving a compliment from Tsukishima felt like getting the golden stamp of approval, because whatever he said, he genuinely believed to be true, and Tsukishima was a harsher critic than almost anyone else Tadashi knew. That was one of the reasons why Tadashi admired his friend so much. No matter what, he could always look to Tsukishima for the light or truth. “You think I’m a good player?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what I’ve heard. Not that you let me listen to you play all that often.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tadashi said, sitting up a bit with anticipation. “Do you want to? Hear me play, I mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was always looking for a chance to play for Tsukishima, but the opportunity never seemed to arise. Tsukishima didn’t ask him about music unless Tadashi brought it up first, and in the music room, they usually spent their time together talking instead of listening to Tadashi play. Music was much a huge part of Tadashi’s life, just as big of a part as Tsukishima was, and it was jolting to remember that the two didn’t mix all that often. Tsukishima came to important concerts or events and sometimes heard him at home or in the music room, but that was rare. As much as Tadashi would love to shove the two most important aspects of his life together, he didn’t want to force his interests onto his friend, who didn’t seem all that interested when it came up in casual conversation. He would only play for Tsukishima if he sincerely wanted to listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” Tsukishima asked, seeming to be genuinely baffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I didn’t really think you would care that much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I care, '' Tsukishima said, voice raising slightly in affrontation, “It’s you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi looked down quickly, eyes snapping away in embarrassment. He swallowed heavily, his chest burning with hope and affection. Once again, he felt Tsukishima’s hand in his hair, heard his breath heavy in his ear, how his body felt passed out on the bed beside him all those long sleepover nights where Tadashi couldn’t sleep. He felt every playful shove, every small tug on his sleeve, every tap on his shoulder. Tsukishima’s determined eyes locked onto Tadashi’s surprised one’s while he said those words so shamelessness made his head spin. He knew Tsukishima probably didn’t mean the words to be interpreted as anything other than an appreciation of their friendship, but it didn’t stop Tadashi’s heart from racing. Even if the words were strictly platonic, Tsukishima </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>said anything nearly as emotional as that. Tadashi tugged his bashful gaze away and turned to the piano. Love bubbled in his chest and flowed to his fingers, friendship and romance and attraction all mixing together into a singular warming sensation. He started to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To a Wild Rose, </span>
  </em>
  <span>composed by Edward Macdowell, was coming from the piano before Tadashi had even decided to play it. It was a song he learnt privately a couple months ago, one he stayed up all night to perfect. He sat at the piano, all his pent up passions needing a place to go, and he poured himself out into the music as he thought about all that he loved. It was slow and gentle, and every note felt specially composed to perfectly portray Tadashi’s innermost affections. The song was so tightly wound in the memories of Tsukishima that he had thought about as he first learned the song that he saw them again as he played, all the feelings and memories melting into the present hum of the notes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do you look mad?” Tsukishima asks. He doesn't sound worried, just mildly curious, with a teasing lilt to his tone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi plops onto Tsukishima’s living room couch and crosses his arms. “Not mad.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sure?” Tsukishima starts to slowly sneak around the side of the sofa. “You sound mad. You look mad.” He pauses in front of Tadashi, crossing his arms as well, looking down with intense concentration. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Tadshi asks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m thinking.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“About what?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tsukishima doesn’t answer. He stares down for a few more seconds before his eyes widen in mock realization. “Oh,” he says, “I get it now.” He leans down and forwards, crouching awkwardly so he is at face level with Tadashi, causing him to lean back as far as possible into the couch. “I’m sorry for kicking your ass at Mario Kart, Tadashi.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi blushes deeply, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Yeah, get out my face already.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tsukishima laughs loudly, backing away with a satisfied grin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All Tadashi could think about was Tsukishima saying his name. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi runs out from backstage feeling as though he’s about to throw up. He doesn’t remember where the bathroom is. He doesn’t even know if there is a bathroom in the building. He thinks that putting bathrooms in all buildings should be a law if that law doesn’t exist already. His stomach twists. He feels queasy. He messed up a few of the notes and he’s sure the audience is all sitting out there now, talking about it. Talking about him. He once again starts to desperately search for a bathroom. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yamaguchi!” says a familiar voice, coming from so close behind him the words were basically being said directly into his ear. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi flinches with an audible yelp, spinning around angrily. “Watch it! Where’s the bathroo-” the words die on his lips at the sight before him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tsukishima stands there tense and awkward, one hand shoved stiffly into his pocket while the other clutches a cute bouquet of yellow flowers. He looks everywhere but at Tadashi. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aww,” Tadashi teases, “Look at you, being all polite.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up. My mom made me. I want to leave right now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi smiles so widely he thinks his mouth will fall off. Flustered Tsukishima is a much better gift than any flowers. All queasiness is officially forgotten. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tsukishima and Tadashi sit on the latters bed, legs crossed and backs leaning against each other. This was their official venting position, only to be used for extremely important purposes. Tsukishima had advocated for a meeting plan that included not looking at each other because he had said it was easier to talk when he could pretend he was talking to himself. Tadashi tried not to be offended by that and adapted his plan to something a little more intimate to fill in that emotional support while still abiding Tsukishima’s request. They had been using this method of communication for years. Tsukishima often described it as “effective.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You called the meeting,” Tadashi says, leaning his head back against Tsukishima’s head. He revels in the physical contact, since it doesn’t happen all that often. He’s generally a huggy person with his family and all of his other friends, but never with Tsukishima. He knows how to savour it when it happens. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t want to go first,” Tsukishima says. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t break the rules of the sacred emergency venting ritual,” Tadashi warns, “After all, you are the one who made most of the rules.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That should give me the very right to break them, in my opinion.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whatever. Just go first.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tsukishima sighs, slumping back into Tadashi just a slight bit more. “Fine. This is really hard for me to say, but…” he paused indefinitely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, Tsukki,” Tadashi encouraged, “no need to be scared. It’s just me and you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s you and I.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, I mean you said it wrong. It’s not me and you, it’s you and I.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy fuck, just say it already!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine! Fine.” Tsukishima took a breath. “I… I got 83 on my math test.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s it?” Tadashi asks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tadashi bursts out laughing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, sitting there on the bed in hysterics, he feels so happy he could burst. There's no good reason for it. There’s rarely ever a reason for happiness. Especially around Tsukishima. The feeling always pops up one way or another. Everything with him just feels always so normal. So right. Everything fit. His happiness is so strong, it almost makes him sad. He wishes he could give Tsukishima a fraction of the happiness that Tadashi felt just by being in his presence. The most simple, trivial things make Tadashi feel a million motions in one and he doesn't know how to describe it. It’s not quite friendship, but it’s close. It’s certainly not the joy one gets from brotherly companionship. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, It’s definitely love. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He made the piece extra slow at the end in the hopes of drawing out some extra emphasis, wanting to show every emotion he poured into the song when he first learnt it. He needed to leave an impact, to show Tsukishima how frustratingly severe his feelings were, even the quiet, mundane sort of moments. He wanted everything to be said without having to say it. He put everything on the table. Tadashi didn’t get to play in front of Tsukishima that often, after all. He wanted his friend to be amazed, to remember this moment the way that Tadishi knew he was going to. His fingers dramatically drew out the final couple of notes, and he lifted his fingers from the keys, relaxed and gratified. He stared at the piano for a while, not having the bravery to look beside him to where Tsukishima sat in silence. He wondered what his friend was thinking. Was his playing good enough? Could he hear what he felt? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Tsukishima says, his voice a little wispy, and a lot less reserved than it normally was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi stared at his hands. It must have worked, then. Tadashi must have been able to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> through the song. He just hoped that what he said was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing. He still couldn’t bring himself to meet Tsukishima’s eyes. He’d lose his mind if he did, if he saw Tsukishima’s facial expression as open and honest as his voice was. He wasn’t ready to know the truth, to open himself up to Tsukishima’s relentless honesty. It was terrifying. He wasn’t ready. Still, at the same time, Tadashi hoped Tsukishima would react in a way that let him know his message got across. He didn’t even need or want to know if Tsukishima felt the same way. He just wanted to make sure his friend knew how he felt. If he couldn’t say it with words, his last hope was music. It was all he had to give. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that you were good,” was all that Tsukishima offered, voice turning back to it’s usual factual tone. He shifted further away from Tadashi on the bench, looking up at the clock. “I have to go. I wanted to talk to a teacher before class. I’ll see you after school.” He gets his bag off the ground beside him and scrapes down the rest of his food where Tadashi could see, and leaves without another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes with a slam, and Tadashi groans loudly, head falling against the piano keys with a soft bang and some strangled, angry notes. For someone who thought he was so smart, Tsukishima sure was a dumbass. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As of this moment, I do not have a set upload schedule. However, I do have a new chapters prepared, so expect updates soon! Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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